


Dragon Age Chocolate

by IntrovertedWife



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Baking, Dalish Elves, Elf Culture & Customs, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Fun, Hot Chocolate, Ice Cream, Kissing, M/M, Memories, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Painting, Pirates, Secrets, Sex and Chocolate, Sexy Times, Short & Sweet, Spies & Secret Agents, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 17:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15147815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedWife/pseuds/IntrovertedWife
Summary: I've got a whole bunch of one shot stories that combine chocolate with everyone's favorite companions.





	1. Fenris & Isabela

Fenris dropped the massive chest in his arms, a groan rising from his throat as the floor disobediently pitched under him. He’d never get used to it no matter how often she insisted.

At that moment, the door to the Captain’s quarters blew open. Smoke silhouetted the corseted woman in a tall hat complete with feather. She yet carried the twin daggers in her hands, her chin high as she stomped in on her thigh-high boots. “That was…”

“A disaster,” Fenris interrupted Isabela.

She scoffed, “Disaster? Half the ship underwater and finding out the first mate made off with all your knickers is a disaster. This was a mild excursion that got out of hand.”

He laughed once, then groaned as he gingerly touched a knife wound washed in seawater. It stung if he thought about it. “I have no idea how Hawke put up with you,” Fenris admitted.

“Oh, stop being all dour grump and crack open the treasure already! We got a great haul for our troubles.”

Fenris sighed, but did as commanded by the Captain. With his sword wedged in the gap, he popped open the waterlogged latch. Together, the pair peered in at piles upon piles of shiny coins.

“Ooh, gold,” Isabela cried, reaching in to scoop up her booty. Fenris excised one, but his frown grew deeper instantly. He pushed on the coin and found the gilt soft, far softer than gold should ever be.

“Something’s not right.”

Isabela looked up from the glittering horde in her arms. “Yeah, I don’t have a bottle of rum and you still have your pants on.”

“Not that,” Fenris growled to try and disguise the blush. “These coins, they’re…” to show his concern, he raised up his one and squished hard. Brown oozed through the middle, dripping off his fingers.

Isabela’s languid mood snapped in an instant. Snarling, she dug into the pile of coins, her fists splattering them to pieces. More of the brown goo oozed up her arm. “Chocolate! There all fucking chocolate!”

The captain paused in her ransacking of the treasure to lick off the haul from her fingers. Fenris shifted, enthralled with the methodical swirl of her tongue. Trying to focus, he asked, “What do we do now?”

To his surprise, she broke into a laugh. If he’d been in her position, Fenris would have hurled the chest into the ocean, then stormed back to the ship they left drifting and sink it. But Isabela shrugged, “All that work for a haul of nothing but chocolate coins.”

She spun one that survived her slaughter in her fingers as if it were a real sovereign. Smirking, she flipped it into the air and caught it, “That’s life for you. Now,” that sometimes falcon-like focus narrowed on him, “why are you still in your trousers? Off already! Captain’s orders.”

“You haven’t guessed the color yet…”

“Oh, your whole body’s gonna be chocolate brown by the time I’m done with you.”


	2. Cullen

“Ah, Inquisitor,” Cullen glanced up instantly at her walking into his office. She’d been bent down into the paperwork, but her eyes narrowed as he quickly slammed shut the bottom drawer on his desk and locked it.

“Commander,” she said, drawing the word out while watching him. As he dropped the key back into his pocket, those amber eyes burned into hers, daring her to ask what she ached to. It didn’t happen every time she’d swing by his office unexpectedly, but there’d been enough sudden walk-ins to find him slamming the drawer shut her curiosity was fully piqued.

“I’m afraid I am due to a meeting with the mages,” Cullen said, a hand sliding back through his crumpled hair. “Perhaps we can talk some other time,” he looked frazzled, but before rushing out the door he beamed a sly smile that melted her bones to goo.

“O…okay,” she called, using the folders to try and fan the stupid blush off her face. Alone in the man’s office, she glanced around at the mess of reports and books. “What am I supposed to do now?” There was always heading back to her own office, or the war room, or bounding into Josie who’d have a dozen jobs for her to do and…

Her eyes were drawn straight to that locked drawer. What did he keep inside? What was so important? Dangerous? Secretive? Possibly so volatile that he didn’t wish any to know?

She didn’t realize she’d fished out her set of lock picks until the pair clanked in her fingers. It wasn’t right. He deserved his privacy.

Which was why she wouldn’t tell anyone about what she found in there.

Dropping to her knees, she stuck both picks into the keyhole and began to rotate around for the tumblers. It’d been awhile since she last had to pick anything. What if he kept something naughty in there? Oh Maker, how could she deal with finding Cullen’s secret stash of nude paintings? She’d blush herself to death before he could.

 _What if he had a type that looked nothing like her?_ A cloud hovered over her brow, her fingers slowing as the thought took hold. What if all of those sly smiles and stolen kisses were just his way of killing time? What if this was all a ploy?

She was about to slide back, try to forget the drawer, when another dark thought rose from the back of her mind.

_What if it’s lyrium?_

Determination drew her to swing the pick around until she heard a click. “Got it,” she called out on instinct, carefully tugging the drawer forward with her picks in place. Peering inside, the Inquisitor frowned, whipped her head up to see if it was a joke, then reach inward.

Tiny, foil-wrapped, candies. It was crammed full of candy. Some looked fruity, familiar drops made at the end of the season. But most were chocolates, hard to the touch but prone to melting in her hand. A bit like Cullen come to think of it.

“Inquisitor?”

Oh shit!

She staggered up, her fingers wrapping around the incriminating evidence. With a forced-on smile, she kicked the drawer back in, “Commander? I thought you had some meeting to…do?”

“I forgot a book and…” He eased around to find her hovering right beside the drawer that couldn’t close. Amber eyes burned into hers and she glanced towards the ceiling, trying to not gulp in guilt. It wasn’t working.

“So,” he growled, stepping closer to her, “you know my secret.”

“That the tough as nails, lion of Skyhold has a sweet tooth?” she laughed, trying to play it off as what it was — cute. Cullen’s body slid in right in front of hers, pinning her against the desk. A flush rose from her heart to coat her cheeks, the timpani in her veins increasing its beat.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she assured him, smiling to try and cool the fire burning in his eyes. The Inquisitor moved to slide away, when his gloved hand lashed onto her wrist. How easily it vanished within that great grip. She couldn’t even see her flesh through his fingers pinning her tight.

Cullen pried open her palm, exposing the one stolen chocolate. With a practiced hand, he unraveled the foil and let it land on the floor. She half-smiled, expecting him to pop it in his mouth, but he drew the square’s edge to hers. It pressed down upon her bottom lip, parting the pair so he could intently watch as she lapped her tongue over the offered treat. His thighs outflanked hers, his hips bounded into hers, and his own tongue rolled between open lips mimicking her.

As he pulled the treat back, she tugged her chocolate-soaked lip into her mouth, her tongue rolling over it to lick up the last of the sugar. Cullen popped the half-melted chocolate into his mouth and chewed. Amber burned into her eyes. Suddenly, his face lashed forward, his lips crushing hers as the decadently sweet taste melded together in their kiss.

Grabbing onto her waist, Cullen hurled her onto his desk, fingers quickly prying apart her shirt. He growled “No, you won’t,” and plunged back to her for a never ending supply of chocolate kisses.


	3. Sera and Dagna

Arms stuffed, Dagna backed into forge door, her voice chattering to Harret, “You’ll never guess what I found just lying around. Old silver! Well, silver bits. Forks mostly. Lot of forks that I figured…”

Her jaw dropped, sentences collapsing together and tumbling from her lips as she spotted Sera leaning into the melting cauldron. She had a long spoon in hand and was stirring it back and forth.

“What are you…?” Dagna called, the found silverware plummeting to the ground as she ran to the elf nearly bent over into a pot hot enough to melt iron.

“Widdles!” Sera cried, turning away from whatever she was stirring. “You got here in the nick of time, I think it’s about ready.”

“What is?” Dagna eased over, one hand raised as she feared what could come flying out of the pot. The possibilities were damn near endless. She wouldn’t be shocked to find Sera was warming a griffin egg in there.

Sera tugged the spoon out and banged it thrice upon the lip of the black cauldron. “Found a box, barely even guarded, but in the nicking it got a bit splattered this way and that, pieces everywhere, bit of grass but that can be picked out. So…”

“You can’t, you can’t put anything but iron in there,” Dagna began, scanning under to the coals glowing a softer red than usual.

Sera sniffed, her blonde head drifting closer to the pot, “Why not? Seems fine to me.”

A breeze whipped over the tumbling waterfall, exciting the coals. As they heated up, whatever concoction was inside of the cauldron began to burble and blorp. Dagna began to reach for anything to shield herself, when a great wave erupted out of the cauldron. Brown goo splattered against Sera’s face. It coated her blonde hair, quickly streaking off her cheeks to ooze down her shirt.

“Is that…?” Dagna inched closer, watching the woman trying to swipe herself clean. Out of the pot came an even great eruption, the second brown wave splattering against both Sera and herself.

She gritted her teeth, expecting it to burn. To her surprise, while the gooey liquid was warm it didn’t char her skin off, and it smelled…

“Chocolate?” Dagna laughed. “You’re melting chocolate in a smelter?”

“Sure, why not?” Sera shrugged, only the whites of her eyes visible behind her chocolate mask.

Laughing even harder, Dagna drew a finger over the mess clinging to her cheeks. Curious, she stuck it into her mouth and smiled. “Mmm, that’s good.” Her fingers began to swipe off all the chocolate clinging to her clothes, greedily stuffing it into her mouth. Soon, it was all gone, the only supply left dripping off of that blonde hair and masking mischievous eyes.

With a leap onto a stool, Dagna hooked her hands around the back of Sera’s neck and pulled those chocolate lips to hers. Her tongue lapped around the decadent candy, sucking it into her mouth as Sera’s fingers curled up to her jawline. Dagna anticipated her holding her tight for a deeper kiss, but she swiped along and revealed even more chocolate drenching her finger.

Snickering, Sera popped it into her mouth, her eyes shut in ecstasy. “You’re so sweet,” she crowed, a smile rising around the finger between her lips. Dagna’s tongue lapped up Sera’s cheek coating itself in the chocolate. Just as hungry, Sera pressed hot kisses to Dagna’s skin as it swiped past in her licking. Each one warmed the chocolate more, their heated bodies sending the melting goo dripping down their clothes.

As a drop tumbled from Sera’s chin, Dagna gave chase. It plopped right on the top of her breasts, sliding its way right between her cleavage. Never one to give up, Dagna’s tongue wiggled its way across her sticky sweet skin and down into the dark crevice.

At that moment, the forge door flew open, Harret grumbling to himself, “Heard you found yourself some…”

He looked around at the forge speckled in chocolate clear to the waterfall, and the two women wrapped together to form one giant sticky treat. “I’ll, uh… Ne’er mind.” Running out, he slammed the forge door in order to let the two of them ‘clean up’ in peace.


	4. Solas

Poised with the brush between his first and second fingers, Solas stepped back from the mural. He’d been crafting a shadow to emphasize the fall of Haven, his work transferringwell from his vision to the canvas of brick. Hm. His brow clouded as he leaned closer to a brown mark that seemed to be…cracking? Tracing his finger up it, he watched as the paint scattered in jagged flecks to the ground.

How was that possible? He’d mixed the paint up himself so it would be as permanent as Skyhold.

Solas turned his palette around, eyeing up the pigments. The reds and yellows looked proper. The blues were their usual glistening color. But the brown… Dragging his fingers over the brown paint, he raised the dab to his nose and sniffed.

Sugar, and a heady mixture of comforting milk and decadent cocoa powder. Curious, he risked his tongue darting to what he’d painted the walls in.

Chocolate, as suspected.

“Sera,” he sneered, for it could be no other who’d dare to try and sabotage his work.

Solas moved to slam down his palette into a bucket of water, but paused. Glancing down at the spreads of chocolates in various hues, he smiled to himself.

* * *

The tip of his finger broke from the warm skin. He reached for his palette due to rote muscle memory, but paused before drenching his finger in more. Light from the candles flickered off of the chocolate slightly sticky from the thrumming body heat. It glistened almost as temptingly as her skin.

“Is it finished?” she asked, her fingers gripping onto her naked shoulder as she tried to glance over at him.

Solas didn’t realize he’d placed his painting finger to his lips until he tasted the same chocolate swirl on his tongue as he’d painted upon the Inquisitor’s back. Her curious eyes darted up to his face. For a breath he winced at the markings so prevalent upon her perfect brow, but he buried it quickly and smiled.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Well,” she smiled wider, inviting him to her. How quick she was to open her heart to the unknown. “What is it?”

White and brown chocolate lines twirled together against her back to form two animals. One a wolf, nearly fading into the shadows of the room. The other a dragon, powerful and white as a star. It attracted the eye to its stark movement while the wolf attempted to hide.

In any other composition it would appear as if the two predators were coming to blows. But the wolf’s and the dragon’s tail were intertwined, their eyes fixed upon each other, and their noses nearly touching.

It was love. Plain to any who’d look upon it. A dangerous message for him to leave upon her skin.

With his palm, Solas smeared the chocolate painting, wolf and dragon vanishing into the mists as he focused his eyes upon hers. Nearly nose to nose, he paused, her lips glistening to ask for an answer. Cupping her cheek, Solas whispered, “The truth,” and he wet those hungry lips with the same chocolate painted to her back.


	5. Leliana

“You do not wish to do this.”

Val Royeaux’s seedy night nearly enveloped her words, the sea air attempting to tug the hood from her head. She glared upon the last man left standing, his hands stubbornly cinched to a box the rest of his gang already fell for.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sister,” the man chattered, refusing to release his prize, “This here’s marked for her Holiness. Which means it must be worth something.”

Leliana sighed, “It is worth everything.” The last thief turned, as if he thought he could escape from her. She lunged, a dagger spinning from her hand. The blade sliced clean through the man’s throat, causing his body to fumble back towards the choppy waves.

Rushing forward, her hands caught the closed wooden box before it hit the ground. Bleeding fingers tried to grip onto her sleeve, but they missed and the thief tumbled over the stone railing to the sea below. It didn’t matter, he’d bleed out soon enough either way.

Leliana flinched. She hadn’t planned this to go so poorly, certainly didn’t want to have to kill so many, but…sacrifices had to be made.

A cacophony of bells struck through the still night and she whipped her head up. It was nearing eleven, the hour when the Divine retired behind her locked door until morning. She didn’t have much time. Whistling for a horse, Leliana mounted quickly and kicked the steed into a gallop. Sparks erupted from the iron shoes ripping through the back alleys of Orlais’ glittering jewel.

By the time she reached the Grand Cathedral, she spotted the templar guards pulling up the doorstops. The great arms of Andraste, carved into the doors of the Cathedral to welcome all, were closing. Leliana didn’t even slow the horse but pulled around towards the side where the apartments of the Divine rested.

“Thank you Mother Constance,” she whispered to herself while hooking onto a ladder. The Mother was known to nip out at night for a bit of fun in the bordellos, leaving both her window open and a convenient ladder to reach it. With the package secured in a pouch at her hip, Leliana began to climb.

It took her little time to dash through the Mother’s room and out towards the gilded halls of the Divine. She spotted her in pristine white robes pausing beside her door.

“Good evening,” the woman called to her guard, her bejeweled hand dismissing them. Leliana was still trapped in the shadows, if she wasn’t quick enough she’d be missed. Running as fast as possible, she was about to call to the retiring Divine.

With a warm smile, the Divine turned her striking blue eyes upon the fumbling Left Hand. “I knew you would come.”

“Don’t I always,” Leliana said cooly even as she fumbled in coming to a stop.

Tipping her head, the Divine invited her Left Hand into her private room. When the door closed, she excised her hat of power and combed through the white curls cut close to her skull. “You very nearly missed. The day was…tiring, but I am heartened to see you again.”

Leliana patted her hands against the box, a lump catching in her throat. “If you need me to leave I can…?”

“Do not be silly,” Dorothea settled on her bed, frail hands clinging to her knees. “This is the one night I know I can find my Nightingale.”

“Here,” she passed the box over quickly, worried that in the scuffle she might have broken what rested inside.

“A gift?” Dorothea was surprised, her snowy eyebrow raising even as her fingers quickly unworked the lock. As the lid of the box rose, hinges whining from the sea salt, she peered down upon a chocolate dagger specially made by the greatest chocolatier in Orlais. They’d thought it a great treasure for the Divine’s coffers, from the chantry itself. Those thieves had no idea what they tried to steal away from her, what she’d never let anyone take again.

Leliana scooped her hand over the back of Dorothea’s, their eyes meeting as she whispered, “A dagger in the dark.”


	6. Alistair

She fished around in the crate beside the campfire, digging through the supplies recently “acquired” by their assassin. Reaching back to bat a fallen hair from her face, she froze at the sound of a crash followed quickly by an adorable voice sputtering, “Blighted Maker’s foot fungus.”

Whipping her head over a shoulder she watched her fellow Grey Warden staggering up to his feet. A smashed box lay on the ground, but what drew her eyes was the massive smear of something brown all across his face. It claimed that impressive nose, his deadly cheekbones, that cute chin, and some even stained his pretty lips.

“Alistair…?” she asked, stretching out his name as he foolishly shrugged and kicked a foot into the box.

Giving up on the crate full of potatoes, she stepped quickly to the man smeared in whatever he’d been tasked with carrying. “Is that…?” Yanking her glove free, she drew her finger over his chin. The sharp prick of scruff tried to stab back, but it was smothered in the confection adhered to his skin.

“Chocolate?” By the waning firelight she got a good look at what coated both her finger and his delectable face.

“I suppose so,” he shrugged, his rising smile threatening to crack the chocolate already drying to a shell. An Alistair shaped chocolate statue that was also true to life. Maker, that’d be something to see.

Laughing, she grabbed the fool’s arms and wrapped them around herself. He paused in his wincing to focus on the woman rising to glance the tip of her teeth and tongue over his jaw. The decadent treat melted in her mouth…and the chocolate was pretty good too. A groan broke from Alistair, his eyes closed as she worked her way down to his chin.

She was about to plunge to his lips, when a thought struck her. “Wait a moment.” She didn’t leave his arms, but leaned back a bit to catch those sometimes mischievous eyes. “I’ve seen you on the battlefield, you are many things but you are not clumsy.”

“Are you saying that I purposefully tripped so my face would plop into a box of chocolate knowing a beautiful woman would want to lick it all off? That’s preposterous! Preponderous? Perspicuous?”

That fluffy voice that’d sometimes sing childish songs as he knotted the laces on his armor drifted so low her spine trilled. “Do you really think I’m that clever?”

Grabbing onto the back of his neck, she pulled him right to her lips. But she held off on the kiss. The thin skin of their mouths barely glanced upon each other, their eyes burning as she read every mischievous thought in his brain. “More than you know,” she breathed, plunging for a kiss.


	7. Josephine

“…a pinch of cinnamon, and then… No, no, perhaps I should start over.”

“Josie,” the Inquisitor sighed, collapsed to her couch as she watched the woman taking full control of what was supposed to be a desk. Grinders, shavers, strainers, something that looked like a torture device all lay strewn above the wooden top. And in full control of the madness was their ambassador who declared she was going to make for the Inquisitor the best damn hot chocolate one had ever tasted.

With snow billowing in from the mountains, her windows tossed open to let in the striking smell of snow, it seemed a delightful idea. That was an hour ago, before Josephine had to restart twice because she boiled the cream too long.

Rising to her feet, the Inquisitor watched Josephine bent over into a third cup of brown liquid. Sugar in both powdered and regular form flew from Josephine’s hands. Whisks whipped cream into play, cinnamon and nutmeg sparkled from her fingers. It was more exciting and terrifying to watch than most rifts she’d closed.

Still. With a slow caress, the Inquisitor cuddled a hand around Josie’s stomach. Her crisp ambassador golds folded inward, heat from the woman inside them wafting up to reach out. She heard Josephine chuckle as the Inquisitor dropped her chin to her shoulder to peer down.

“I am working,” Josie scolded as she often did whenever the Inquisitor would wander by and have to hold her hand, have to wrap an arm around her, have to pull the overworked ambassador into her lap. Not that any of it ever slowed Josie, that quill moving at lightning speed.

“I think it’s good,” the Inquisitor said, fingers tugging back a tendril of black hair, her lips pressing against Josie’s elongated neck.

“You are…” Josie sighed, eyes shut tight as goosebumps rose against her decadent skin while her love kissed further downward. “Trying to distract me. It will not work.”

The business sheen snapped into place, the Inquisitor sighing and falling back. Josie bustled, her golden sleeves flying over the desk. “I think I have…” she inspected a sheet upon her clipboard. “Ah, yes, one more thing.” Picking up a small marshmallow, she dropped it into the bubbling cup, then added a dash of crushed peppermint over top.

With a grin, Josie turned to the Inquisitor who was trying to smile. “Is that it? Are you done?”

“Yes,” Josie declared, raising the mug up. “Now taste.”

Her smile not dimming, she accepted the mug in her palm. It smelled of creamy chocolate and winter spices. The warmth emanating from the cup and the glow in her love’s eyes begged for cuddling by the fire, for curling up under a blanket and kissing every inch of each other’s bodies. There was only one small problem.

The Inquisitor did not like hot cocoa.

Pressing the mug to her lips, she took a small sip. The sugary concoction washed over her tongue and down her throat, trying to dredge up hated memories of family screaming matches during Satinalia. Her grandmother grabbing her by the ear and dragging her to the family goop ordering her to drink it straight off the stove.

“Well?” Josie chirped. Her beautiful brown eyes were begging for her to like it. To love it as she loved her.

Smiling, the Inquisitor cupped Josephine’s cheek. Her thumb trailed along Josie’s lips, aching to kiss them and forget the cocoa. Leaning forward, she whispered, “It’s perfect because you made it,” before making good on her plans.


	8. Dorian

Pacing about in his quarters, the Inquisitor didn’t look up from the latest reports out of the commander as he fished open a box of imported chocolates. They were a gift from somewhere for something. Josephine was in charge of keeping track and sending the requisite thank you notes. He had neither the time nor training apparently to fulfill such a dangerous task.

He was about to place the first unlooked upon chocolate to his lips, when his eyes finally swung down to find someone beat him to it. A small bite mark taunted him from the hard chocolate shell. Frowning, the Inquisitor threw back the lid on the box.

Maker’s breath! They’d all been chewed apart! Bites marred every single chocolate in the box, all thirty of them. Who could have…?

“Dorian?” He turned towards the only man he let in his quarters. The only man who was obstinately kicking a foot into the bed while trying to read. Holding the box up, the Inquisitor scowled, “Did you…did you bite every one of these?”

The book closed and Dorian’s insolent eyes cut through him. “You offered them to me.”

“I offered you one. One! And you bit into them all?”

Dorian rose from the bed, his gait quickly turning into a swagger. _Oh, if he thought he could get out of this with sex…_ Pausing at the edge of the desk, Dorian placed a hand on his hip. “How else could I know which I’d want if I didn’t sample them first? The foolish chocolatier didn’t even feign to include a map. I did return them. Only partially used.”

“You…” The Inquisitor slammed the box onto the desk and for a beat Dorian’s eyes widened. After picking up the first in a long line of chocolates, the Inquisitor grabbed Dorian’s hand. The man sighed, as if he suspected he’d have to eat it, but his love surprised him.

Yanking him forward, the Inquisitor grazed his teeth against Dorian’s chin. The mage yelped in shock, a hand glancing to the love bite as the Inquisitor bit into the half-eaten chocolate.

“Nougat,” he sighed, returning the rest to the box. But he wasn’t finished, picking up the second in his fingers, he returned to his confused and concerned boyfriend. Tipping his head, his free hand brushing up Dorian’s cheek to tug him to the side, the Inquisitor’s chocolate-stained lips kissed right upon his throat.

He felt Dorian gulp through his hand as he puckered the thin skin into his teeth and took the tenderest nip. A shudder reverberated through the man but the Inquisitor was already biting into the second chocolate and sighing, “Cherry.”

“What are you…?” Dorian was blinking madly, shaking his head to try and put himself upon solid ground.

“Simple,” the Inquisitor fished up the third. He paused to catch the man’s eye, spinning the chocolate in his fingers. “For every bite you took out of my chocolates,” he paused, a lascivious grin rising. Rising up on his toes, his tongue lapped against Dorian’s earlobe. His hot breath purred in his ear, “I intend to take a nip from you.”

And he did just that, teeth pinching upon that earlobe as Dorian gasped. “That will,” he turned his head to the box. Three down, twenty-seven more to go. “Take some time.”

“Indeed,” the Inquisitor bit into the new chocolate to find it full of ganache. That one he happily finished off. With chocolate staining the side of his lips, he eyed up the man trembling in anticipation upon his desk. “I suggest you lose your shirt first, then the trousers.”

 


	9. Vivienne

A disgusted noise snapped out of the kitchen. Vivienne anticipated finding some of the scullery maids attempting to beat a rat, which would then be turned into the typical stew for the evening. What she found was, in truth, far more fascinating.

Black hair dripping in dough, flour scattered across a hauberk, armed with spatula and bowl, the Seeker turned from whatever she was attempting to slay. Her scowl slipped to one of shock as she eyed up Madam de Fer entering into the kitchen.

“Cassandra…?” Vivienne began, in truth, surprised to find her here of all places.

“What are you doing here?” Cassandra shot back, seeming as much tipped off her stance from Vivienne appearing in the kitchens. The rather ransacked kitchens she now realized.

Vivienne smiled patiently, “There was a rather emphatic boom to shake Skyhold. I assumed it to be Sera and another of her pranks, but it appears I was mistaken. What, pray tell, are you attempting to do?”

“I was,” Cassandra glared at the bowl in her clutches, “I am making a cake.”

“You’re going about it in a most interesting of fashion.”

“Argh!” she amped up her disgusted noise, nearly flinging both bowl and spatula against the wall. They paused before shattering to pieces, though Cassandra did not lighten. Vivienne inspected the lumpy mass clinging to the bottom of the bowl as if in fear for its life, as was the wont of many in Cassandra’s presence.

“I beat the eggs as instructed,” Cassandra snarled, jabbing a finger at a cookbook propped up on the table.

“Quite, but one does not usually reach the point where the eggs are willing to renounce their faith. Here,” Vivienne scraped out the bowl and began anew, “allow me.”

Cassandra’s scowl faded to shock and almost concern, as if she feared for Vivienne. What a delightful concept. After sifting the flour and sugar together in a separate bowl, Vivienne began to work on the wet, which was when Cassandra voiced her barely hidden thoughts.

“You can cook?”

“This is baking, my dear. And yes, I can.”

“It’s just…” she pursed her lips, blowing air out through them in thought. “It seems as if it’d be beneath you.”

“It is a skill. One must never turn one’s nose up at the opportunity to learn a new trade that would prove useful,” Vivienne was quick to fold in the softened butter and a dash of vanilla. “I can also sew, play the lute, and perform three different plays should the need arise.”

Leaving Cassandra well impressed, Vivienne turned to eye up the recipe and snatched up the tin of cocoa powder. Interesting. “A chocolate cake?” she mused while sifting the cocoa powder into the white flour. As it happily settled in, waiting for the spoon to combine it, Vivienne paused.

She glanced over the pacing and clearly agitated Seeker, “This wouldn’t happen to be for anyone special?”

“What?” Cassandra froze in her tracks, her eyes always announcing her thoughts. It was a wonder she survived in Orlais for a minute never mind twenty years.

“A chocolate cake, made by your own hands. That would seem to me to be something of a more thoughtful, dare I say, romantic gesture.”

“No,” Cassandra shook her head as if a hornet took up residence. “No, no, no. I simply…” she snorted, her fingers digging into each other as if she wished to have a sword in them. With a sigh, her head flopped to her chin, “I wanted to have cake. Craved it and thought I could make it myself. Foolish. I’ve never baked anything in my life.”

A smile warmed Vivienne’s face. She placed the two pans filled with batter into the oven and leaned back beside Cassandra. “That is a much more divine reason to make a cake.”

“You, uh, would you like to stay and have some as well? It’s certainly not fancy, but…”

It was adorable how the Seeker scampered around the breadcrumbs of friendship. Vivienne reached over and took her hand. Giving it a good shake, she announced, “I would be delighted to share a slice with you.”


	10. Zevran

Less-than-fine Antivan boots slapped into the cobbles. Spinning on the balls of his feet, Zevran dodged around a pair of overstuffed businessmen off to ruin someone else’s life. They huffed at the scraggly elf, but after catching the glint of his daggers and the sash tied to his waist they found something else more important on the other side of the road. It didn’t matter, he had more important prey ahead.

Antiva City was in the midst of a crushing heat wave, sweat building upon his brow from the moment he woke. Exercising in this stifling attack of summer rendered his bones to tallow, but he had to keep up the pursuit. A little bell jangled ahead, telling him he was growing closer.

With a kick from his waning stores of energy, Zevran leapt over the people in the way and landed right before the eyes of his target. The man sneered a moment at the blond elf, then his buggy eyes drifted to the same scarf. A scoop clattered to the ground, the man’s hands both raised as he moved to cower helplessly behind his cart.

“Please! Please don’t kill me! I haven’t done anything!”

Zevran sighed, “You haven nothing to fear.”

“I know a Crow insignia when I see one!”

“Then,” Zevran reached over to grip onto the man’s sweat-stained shirt. He hauled him up, barely blinking as the cowering man quickly towered over him. In a world filled with humans, if he let such a minor thing as heigh discrepancy bother him he’d never get out of bed. “Would it not be in your best interest, my good man, to not continually annoy the Crow before you?”

The vendor blinked his eyes a few times, his lips flexing in thought. “What? What do you want?”

Releasing him, Zevran folded his arms and smiled, “Ice cream.”

“That’s…that’s it? Just ice cream?”

“Preferably in a cone, three scoops,” Zev held up his fingers to emphasize the amount.

The ice cream man’s eye didn’t leave Zev even as he opened his blast-chilled cart and reached inside. “What flavor?”

Glancing down at his boots, Zev twisted them around until he could make out the brown stain upon the toe. “Chocolate, I believe.”

He got another confused glare for that response, but the vendor was quick to fill up a cone with three full scoops of glistening chocolate. As it passed to Zevran’s hand, the elf sighed in contentment at the chill radiating free. How tempting it was to shove the entire concoction over his steaming forehead to cool off.

“How much?”

“On the house,” the vendor responded, back to scampering behind his cart.

A heartwarming smile rose across Zevran’s face. With a thumb to his forelock, he tipped his head to the good man, “My thanks.” He turned to leave, when he said over his shoulder, “And a thanks from the Crows as well.”

It did not take him long to return, though the ice cream was already trying to ooze down his palm in sticky waves. It was much easier for him to find his second target, the wails never ceasing. Not until Zevran paused before the small girl, dropped to a knee, and thrust a fresh chocolate ice cream cone into her hands.

“I hope you will forgive my faux pas of bouncing into…” he couldn’t even finish his thought as the girl dove face first into the treat he carried down ten blocks for her. Chocolate smeared up her cheeks and down her chin, a smile widening from ear to pointy ear.

Her mother jostled her in the back, “What do we say?”

“Th’nk you,” the girl mumbled, too busy devouring her treat to bother with niceties to adults.

Smiling from his lips to heart, Zevran tipped his head, “It was a pleasure.”


End file.
